


In Your Arms

by hollyhobbit101



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [5]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Domestic Fluff, Exhaustion, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, mainly comfort with just a tiny bit of hurt, why isn't there a relationship tag for michelle and tk :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23864149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyhobbit101/pseuds/hollyhobbit101
Summary: T.K. and Carlos agreed when they started dating to check-in on each other that they were both okay. Reassurance that nothing bad had happened. So, when Carlos hasn't replied hours after his shift is supposed to have finished, T.K.'s definitely beginning to panic.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand, Michelle Blake & TK Strand
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691701
Comments: 18
Kudos: 250





	In Your Arms

**Author's Note:**

> a bad things happen fic written by me that's actually kind of mostly fluff? miracles can happen. 
> 
> Anon: For bad things happen bingo (if you’re still taking requests! if not no worries) - worked themselves to exhaustion with 911 LS (and tarlos?) :)
> 
> Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

T.K. wouldn’t call himself clingy. He doesn’t need to be around his boyfriend 24/7; besides which, now that he’s dating Carlos, it’s harder than ever to find time together. They both have hard jobs with long hours, and T.K.’s okay with that. But he hasn’t seen Carlos in three days and he’s starting to worry.

More concerning, he hasn’t heard from Carlos at all today; at the very least, he usually gets a quick check-in at some point. It was something they agreed upon when they first started dating, a reassurance that they’re both okay.

But the firehouse has barely had a moment to rest all week, and T.K. can only assume it’s been the same at the PD, so he tries to think nothing of it. Call after call has been coming in, and the past 24 hours have been an uphill struggle that not even Mateo could smile through. When the shift is over, they’re barely able to mumble a goodbye before heading to their respective homes, looking forward to the following day off. T.K. would do that same, but it’s still radio silence from Carlos even though T.K. knows his shift ended half an hour ago.

So, instead of heading home with his dad, he orders an Uber and heads straight to Carlos’s, concern mounting as he sees the Camaro is missing from its usual spot. He tries calling again, but gets sent straight to voicemail.

He wants to go inside to make sure Carlos isn’t asleep - though that seems unlikely given the blinds aren’t drawn - but he doesn’t have a key yet so T.K. has to settle for peering through the windows and hoping the neighbours don’t call the cops on him.

There are no signs of life, as expected, but the thing that concerns him isn’t Carlos’s absence, but the stack of dirty dishes next to the sink. Carlos is meticulous about keeping his space clean and he always washes up after every meal. The stack looks to be at least two days’ worth - something’s definitely wrong.

He sits down in front of the door, watching the road in case Carlos suddenly appears, but there’s nothing. Nothing, either, from the phone, and the ball of anxiety in his stomach grows.

T.K. tries to keep calm, telling himself that if something truly bad had happened, then he would know, but it’s not convincing. They haven’t been dating that long and, besides, he’s not even sure if he believes in any of that stuff anymore.

The minutes crawl past into half an hour, and then a full hour, and it’s official - T.K.’s panicking. He’s desperate enough to try calling Michelle, begging her number off his dad, which had been a conversation he’d rather have avoided.

_(“What do you need Michelle for, are you hurt?”_

_“_ _No, Dad, I’m fine. I just need to talk to her about Carlos.”_

_“Carlos is hurt?”)_

She picks up on the fourth ring, just as T.K. is beginning to despair of an answer.

“Michelle, hi, it’s T.K.”

“T.K.?” she answers, voice bleary and, _fuck_ , T.K. had forgotten how late it is. “Is everything okay? Is something wrong with you or your dad?”

“No, we’re both fine. Sorry to wake you,” he says awkwardly. “It’s, uh, actually it’s about Carlos.”

“Carlos? Is he okay?” She sounds more awake now and, guilty as he feels, T.K.’s glad she’s there.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” he tells her. “I just - I haven’t heard from him at all today, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen him, and I know you guys are friends, and I was wondering if he told you anything?”

“Anything about what?” she asks.

T.K. grimaces. “I… About anything? Like, has something come up at work, or…” he trails off, helpless and shrugs, sighing. Michelle is silent on the other end, and T.K. wonders if he’s just overreacting and she’s going to tell him to damn well leave her alone, though that doesn’t really seem like Michelle’s style -

“Carlos hasn’t told me anything but I’ve heard through the grapevine that they’re dealing with a pretty big case,” Michelle says, and T.K. could have wept with relief. “Maybe he’s pulling some overtime?”

T.K. almost laughs, then. Because of course he’s been sitting here worrying that something dramatic has gone down when it’s probably just a bit of overtime. He hurriedly thanks Michelle and cuts the call, sighing deeply.

And yet, a little bit of overtime still doesn’t explain why they haven’t seen each other for days, why Carlos still hasn’t replied to the text T.K. sent nearly six hours ago. And it’s knocking on one am, pretty much two hours after Carlos’s shift ended - not even an important case can warrant that much overtime.

He has to see Carlos, he decides. Has to know that he’s okay.

The station isn’t too far from Carlos’s place, so T.K. forgoes an Uber, opting instead to sprint there, the exhaustion from earlier all but forgotten.

As luck would have it, Carlos is walking - or, more accurately, stumbling - out of the station just as T.K. gets there. He frowns as soon as he spots T.K., but before he can say anything, T.K.’s pulling him into a hug, relief filling him.

“What’re you doing here?” Carlos mumbles.

T.K. pulls away, examining Carlos’s appearance. He looks terrible, face pale and dark bruises underneath his eyes. He seems to be swaying a little, too, and T.K. doesn’t want to let go of him lest he fall over.

“You didn’t answer my text,” he responds, not even caring about how whiny he sounds.

“Sorry, it was just so busy, and -”

“It’s fine,” T.K. interrupts. This isn’t supposed to be a guilt trip; he’s just relieved to see Carlos is okay. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”

“You don’t even have a car,” Carlos points out. “I can drive myself.”

T.K. raises an eyebrow. “You can barely even walk,” he says. “I’m driving, give me your keys.”

Carlos sighs, but doesn’t protest, which is testament to how exhausted he must be. He’s threatened T.K. no less than four times over touching the Camaro; for him to let T.K. drive it is something that would only happen when he’s too drunk or tired to say no.

Carlos is asleep almost as soon as he gets in the car, and T.K. hates to wake him when they get back to his house. He also has to help him undress before they both crawl into bed, T.K.’s own eyes starting to get heavy at this point. He steals Carlos’s phone before he falls asleep, turning off all of his alarms for the next morning and silencing any notifications that could wake him. Smiling to himself, T.K. wraps his arms around Carlos and closes his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep

* * *

T.K. wakes before Carlos the next morning. He gets up, careful not to disturb him, and pulls on some boxers, tip-toeing out of the bedroom, though not before snapping a picture of his sleeping boyfriend.

He heads into the kitchen and begins clearing up, washing and putting away the dishes, and picking up the odds and ends that are lying around the room. When he’s done, he sets about making breakfast; T.K.’s no cook, not like Carlos is, but he can manage breakfast.

The smell of bacon must finally wake Carlos, because the next thing T.K. hears is a bang coming from the bedroom, followed by a stream of swearing. He grins and heads over, leaning casually against the door frame as he watches Carlos scramble to get ready.

“What the fuck, T.K.?” Carlos says once he spots him. “Why didn’t you wake me? My shift started hours ago!”

“You don’t have a shift today,” T.K. says, grin widening.

Carlos stares at him as though he’s grown an extra head. “Uh, yeah, I do.”

T.K. shrugs and walks over, reaching out to grab one of Carlos’s hands. “I may or may not have stolen your boss’s number from your phone,” he says. “And I may or may not have told him that you were sick and couldn’t possibly come in today.”

“What the fuck?” Carlos repeats. “T.K. you can’t do things like that! Besides, I’m fine!”

“Yeah, because you actually slept last night,” T.K. counters, suddenly serious. “Look, you were dead on your feet when we left the station. Can you honestly tell me you’ve had more than a couple hours this whole week?”

Carlos opens his mouth as if to argue, then relents, sighing. “Alright, you’ve got a point. And I suppose I could do with a day off.”

“Glad we’re in agreement,” T.K. says, nodding triumphantly. “Come on, I’ve made breakfast.”

Carlos raises his eyebrows, then sniffs. “It’s burning,” he says, and then it’s T.K.’s turn to swear, running out of the bedroom to attempt to salvage the blackened husk of the bacon.

Carlos’s laughter follows him, and T.K. suddenly realises how much he’s missed this. And even though it’s only been three days, it was three days too long; he wants to spend every moment he can with Carlos.

And he’s got a few ideas for how they can make up the lost time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed and, as always, you can find me/prompt me over on tumblr @morganaspendragonss!


End file.
